


Worth Doing Right

by DesireeArmfeldt



Category: due South
Genre: Community: ds_snippets | dsc6dsnippets, F/M, First Time, Love, Pre-Canon, Sex, teenage sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-22
Packaged: 2018-05-22 15:19:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6084639
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray never jerks off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth Doing Right

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Problem with Sex](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5219777) by [DesireeArmfeldt](https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesireeArmfeldt/pseuds/DesireeArmfeldt). 



> Originally written for the prompt "Heavens above/Can this sticky stuff really be love?" at [ds-snippets](http://ds-snippets.livejournal.com).
> 
> I'm writing a set of snippets on this prompt that are not necessarily in the same 'verse (though they could be) but are thematically related.

Ray doesn’t jerk off.  God’s honest truth.  Want to know why?  
  
Okay, see, the first time him and Stella had sex—not going-all-the-way, just humping through their clothes in Ray’s car, but it counts because it was the first time they both actually came.  (He thought maybe she’d come once or twice before when they were making out, because she did this funny, super-fast breathing, but he wasn’t sure and couldn’t ask.)  
  
—Anyway, Ray was crammed into the back seat with one foot in the footwell and the other knee almost brushing the ceiling, and Stella lying on his chest, riding his hips.  His dick was squeezed almost painfully inside his jeans, but every time she slid forward or back, a bolt of pleasure pierced him.  He was soaked with sweat, panting and whining and straining, and Stella’s hair brushed his cheek and all he could smell or see or feel was her, her, her.  It was like some whole different plane of existence, the two of them fused into a glorious new un-namable thing—and then his body clenched and he saw stars with every part of him except his eyes, which only saw Stella’s face looking down at him like he was strange and wonderful.  
  
“I love you,” he gasped, and she buried her face in the crook of his neck and quivered.  
  
And then he was back on regular Planet Earth, and his shorts were clammy and he had a crick in his neck, but he understood what it was all about.  
  
Love: that was the point.  The _whole_ point.

So, even though him and Stella didn’t last and he’s beginning to think he’ll never get another shot at love, he’s holding out, anyway, for something that makes sense.  If he wants pointless entertainment, there’s always TV.  



End file.
